Chapter 13: A Nauseating Performance
Scabbers seemed to sense something.
The rat jerked its head up and fixed its tiny eyes on Tamara.
A heartbeat later, it let out a shrill, terrified squeal, flung itself headfirst into Ron's pocket, and began to shake so hard the fabric quivered. No amount of coaxing made it come out again.
"What's wrong with him?" Ron patted his pocket, baffled. "He's usually really brave."
Tamara tipped her chin towards the cage beside her. "Perhaps it's because of my cat."
The stupid cat named Nagini was sprawled near the bars, eyes huge and unblinking, saliva gathering at the corner of its mouth as it stared at Ron's pocket like it was a dinner plate.
"Really?" Ron eyed the black cat suspiciously, but since cats did, in fact, eat rats, he did not dwell on it.
A few minutes passed. Then Ron's expression changed, as if a thought had suddenly struck him. He turned to Harry, eyes bright with excitement.
"Wait. Are you really Harry Potter?"
Harry nodded.
"Then do you really have… that?" Ron pointed at his own forehead. "That scar?"
Harry sighed inwardly, but he still pushed his fringe aside.
The lightning shaped scar was there, plain as ever.
Tamara immediately looked away, fixing her gaze on the fields rushing past the window, forcing herself to think of pleasant things, like dropping that dead rat into a cauldron and letting it stew.
"Wicked," Ron breathed, awed.
Harry gave him an awkward smile. He did not think a scar was wicked, but Ron seemed pleased, and Harry was willing to play along.
"Tamara, don't you want to see it? The really cool scar on Harry's head?" Ron called, half laughing.
"Not cool at all."
Tamara did not turn around. Her voice was flat, cold.
"It's a mark left by murder, not some sort of medal."
And it was proof of her failure.
Ron and Harry had no idea why Tamara's mood had turned so heavy so quickly. It only seemed she disliked the scar, and neither of them could understand why.
Just as the silence began to settle uncomfortably, the compartment door slid open.
A smiling witch stood there, pushing a trolley piled high with sweets.
"Anything off the trolley, dears?"
"No, thanks," Ron said quickly, lifting his sandwich. "I've got food."
Harry stared at the trolley, thinking. He had hardly eaten all day.
"We'll take the lot," he said, suddenly decisive.
He produced a handful of Galleons, spread them on the table with a kind of boldness he had not quite earned yet, and paid for everything.
Within moments, the seat was buried under colourful wrappers and boxes. Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans, Chocolate Frogs, Licorice Wands, and more besides, all gleaming in the sunlight.
"Want some?" Harry picked up a Chocolate Frog, then hesitated and offered it to Tamara. "You had low blood sugar earlier."
Tamara turned her head. Her eyes swept over the Chocolate Frog, then across Harry's face, as if weighing the offer and the boy behind it.
"Thank you, but I'm fine now," she said, her tone stripped of warmth.
"Besides, I don't like sweets. They rot your teeth and dull your mind."
Ron, halfway through a mouthful of Cauldron Cake, nearly choked. He swallowed hard and muttered thickly, "How boring."
She might have been pretty, but she was impossible to talk to. Odd, too, in a way that made the air in the compartment feel tighter.
If Tamara had wanted to, she could have had them both smiling at her within minutes.
In her previous life, she had been a beloved prefect, admired by the entire school. Her manners were polished, her appearance immaculate, and she possessed that effortless charm that could make people overlook almost anything.
Almost anyone, except Dumbledore.
But Tamara had no interest in pleasing the two idiots sitting with her now.
She had not even fully accepted the system whispering inside her head, or the body that felt weak and wrong, as if it had been stitched together badly and expected to behave like a real person.
The sense of being boxed in at every turn irritated her. It was worse, in some ways, than wandering as a spirit in Albania.
The silence had reached its sharpest point when the compartment door was shoved open again, far less politely this time.
Three boys stood in the doorway.
The one in front had a pale, pointed face and a familiar, smug expression, like he had been born sneering at people.
Draco Malfoy.
Behind him were two large boys with heavy builds and vacant stares, Crabbe and Goyle.
"So it's true," Malfoy said, his eyes snapping to Harry at once, bright with the satisfaction of finding prey.
"Everyone on the train's saying Harry Potter's in this compartment."
He looked Harry up and down, the corner of his mouth curling. "So that's you, is it?"
"Yes," Harry said, wary, watching them closely.
"Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle," Malfoy said carelessly, as if introducing furniture. "And I'm Malfoy. Draco Malfoy."
Ron gave a small cough that sounded suspiciously like he was covering a laugh.
Malfoy spun towards him, his expression twisting with disgust.
"Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford."
Ron's face turned bright red at once. His fists clenched so hard his knuckles looked pale.
"You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter," Malfoy said, turning back to Harry. He stuck out his hand with practised superiority.
"You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort."
Harry did not take it.
"I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks," he said, cold and steady.
Malfoy's expression cracked. A flush rose on his pale cheeks, the colour of embarrassed fury.
[Ding! Detected bullying behaviour between classmates.]
[Triggered emergency mission: Ally of Justice.]
[Mission Description: As a future prefect candidate, you have a duty to maintain unity and friendship among Hogwarts students. Please stop this conflict and protect the weaker party, such as Harry Potter.]
[Mission Reward: Courage +5.]
[Failure Penalty: Random spell confiscation.]
Tamara sighed inwardly.
Protect Potter?
That was the biggest joke in the world.
But for the sake of those cursed five points of Courage, she would endure it.
"Mr Malfoy."
Draco's body stiffened as if someone had splashed him with icy water.
His attention had been locked on Harry so completely that he had not even registered Tamara sitting by the window.
Now that intensely intimidating face was fixed on him, cold and unmoved.
"Ta… Tamara?" Draco's bravado deflated at once, his voice slipping into a stammer. "Wh what a coincidence. You're in this compartment too?"
Tamara rolled her eyes quickly, her tone edged with impatience.
"Have you forgotten what I told you?"
Draco flushed. He opened his mouth to retort, but under Tamara's gaze, the kind that felt like it could peel thoughts straight out of a skull, not a single sharp word made it past his teeth.
"But… he rejected me first!" Draco pointed at Harry, whining like a boy running to tattle.
"Since he refused," Tamara replied, "persisting will only make you look cheap."
She turned slightly, setting her back towards Harry and Ron as she faced Draco.
To Harry, it looked reckless. A frail girl placing herself between him and three boys who clearly enjoyed trouble.
"Take your lackeys and leave, Draco."
The dismissal was calm. Final. There was no room to argue.
Draco bit his lip. He glared at Tamara, then at Harry behind her.
He did not want to go.
But he was more afraid of her than he was angry at Harry.
That instinctive fear swallowed any thought of defiance whole.
"Let's go!" Draco snapped.
He shot Harry one last venomous look, then backed out of the compartment, Crabbe and Goyle lumbering after him.
Quiet settled again.
Tamara remained standing for a moment. She closed her eyes and drew a slow, steady breath through her nose.
What a nauseating performance.
She had scolded away a younger Malfoy, someone who should have been on her side, all for the sake of playing saviour.
Was this what passed for justice?
How ridiculous.
"Um…" Harry's voice came from behind her, cautious and sincere.
"Thank you, Tamara."
Tamara turned around.
Harry was looking at her with wide green eyes, bright with undisguised gratitude and admiration.
"You were really cool just now," Ron blurted, unable to stop himself. "How did you do that? Malfoy looked terrified of you!"
[Ding! Mission Completed: Ally of Justice.]
[Reward: Courage +5.]
[Current Courage: 5.]
[Additional Gain: Harry Potter's Favourability +10.]
Tamara listened to the system's cheerful chimes while staring at Harry's earnest, grateful expression.
Her stomach churned violently.
"You're welcome," she said, because it was the shortest answer that ended the conversation.
What she wanted was to hit everyone in the compartment with Avada Kedavra.
.....
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